I think that the journey I've taken over the last 5 years has taken my faith. Before I had this accident and multiple surgeries, I had such unshakable faith in God. Now, I question my own meaning every day...I ask where this god is, the one who's supposed to replenish my faith, my strength, my grace when I am weak and struggling. I cry out for help or guidance, or a sign, and where I used to see them almost daily; now I see none. I feel that my once-endless, overflowing cup of hope and joy has dwindled and nearly dried up. I used to pray and receive strength; now I sit, stone-faced, in daily pain. I am thankful for my life. I am not thankful for the life of pain from which I can find no relief. I've tried everything under the sun...doctors, pain clinics, physical therapy, water therapy, chiropractors, reiki energy healing, yoga, meditation, healing of hands, prayer, love, crying it out, raging against this damaged body and finding no answers or relief. I am left trying to forgive this body that won't work the way I need it to, a mind clouded sometimes with pain so intense I cry out involuntarily. I miss my work. I miss my life meaning. I miss feeling the security of faith...knowledge of a kind and loving God, whose Grace will take my pain and fill my heart with hope. I do not believe we suffer necessarily for some reward in the hereafter; that is a load of shit. I'm beginning to wonder what I might have done in a past life that has caused so much painful karma in this one.
The only reason I get up in the morning is my love for my children. I live only to make them smile, to teach them to live healthily in this life and to always be kind and full of goodness and love. Maybe, amongst all the other things I've learned from my children, they will also teach me how to become my vibrant and exuberant self again. I have run out of options; I feel my well of hope has run dry. This body is useless to me. It looks fine to everyone else, but the pain I feel shooting down my back, neck and arms each day is enough to devour the smile on my face on a good day. How many surgeries? 8 so far. I will not go under the knife again. I feel that one of the only options I haven't tried yet would be acupuncture or going on a healing pilgrimage to Crete, where I've heard the magic of the island will cure me. Hmm...except for the fact that all of these "cures" cost MONEY...something a disabled person raising 5 children has very little of.
What kind of work can a woman like me do anymore? I'm exhausted after taking a shower some days. I sleep most of the day because in sleep, I feel less pain. I've tried to meditate and rise above the pain I feel, to become accepting of it, to live with it instead of fight it and rage against it...I need the ocean, I need fresh air and sunshine, I need to feel that somewhere there is an ending to my pain. I become more and more angry as my children grow and I realize the things I haven't been able to teach them because of my physical restraints. Canoeing. Ice skating. Skiing. Just throwing a damn ball out in the backyard, teaching my son baseball or football or anything...movement. I miss moving normally, relaxing normally...breathing normally.
The doctor keeps talking about the research being done to help injured Iraq War Veterans, and that research will likely be able to help me, as my crash was comparable to something that would be endured in war. Well figure it out already! I have lived with this pain long enough! And I'm sure that horrible day, the day I remember every single morning as I haul myself out of bed...that day is likely a distant memory to the drunk driver who has succeeded in ending my life as I knew it.
